


Bet On It

by IDreamOnlyOfYou (lauren3210)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M, Merry Christmas, hospital au, outside pov, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/IDreamOnlyOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an RN and Derek the attending trauma surgeon at Beacon Hills Hospital. They're constantly arguing, much to the amusement of their colleagues, who ultimately decide to take bets on when the sexual tension will finally explode. The only question is, who will win the jackpot?</p><p>Or</p><p>5 times one of the guys try to push Derek and Stiles together, and the time they worked it out all on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet On It

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Давай поспорим?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244869) by [ejovvika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejovvika/pseuds/ejovvika)



> This was just a little idea that came into my head last night, and I wrote it all out in one sitting. It's unbetaed, so apologies for any mistakes, but consider this an early Christmas gift for the Sterek fandom!
> 
> *Slight trigger warning at the end to avoid spoilers*

**0**

“Where the hell are the speculums?”

“Second drawer down, Derek, why do I have to tell you this every damn day?”

“Maybe because you move them every damn day!”

“Or maybe it’s because you’re too busy flexing your damn muscles to listen to me telling you where they are every damn day!”

“I don’t _flex_ -”

“Oh please, Derek, do you really think _any_ of us miss the way you preen yourself every time you walk past a reflective surface?”

“Stiles-”

“All the instruments in your OR cringe in embarrassment for you, man.”

“Stiles-”

“And it’s not as if I’ve got nothing better to do all day than keep telling you where anything is, oh no, personal secretary Stiles to Derek the Dickhead Hale, that’s me.”

“ _Stiles!_ ”

“ _What,_ dude? Can’t you see I’m working here?”

“Second drawer. No speculums.”

Danny winces as he hears the contents of the drawer scattering across the linoleum floor behind him. He smiles in awkward apology at the woman in front of him, tapping her arm to get her attention back from where she is watching the spectacle unfolding over his shoulder. At least the daily _Stiles and Derek Show_ has managed to temporarily stop her from panicking about the screwdriver currently lodged deep in her husband’s arm. He directs her over to the waiting area and then leans back in his chair with a sigh.

“Ethan’s gonna be pissed, he’d just restocked that cabinet.”

Allison looks up from the chart in her hands just in time to witness Stiles lob a packaged intubation tube at Derek, who ducks easily and flicks the nurse around the ear with a pair of purple gloves. She chuckles and leans against the reception desk. “They’re like a pair of old marrieds, it’s cute.”

“Old marrieds as in, not getting any, right?” Jackson bangs into the desk next to her, reaching out to snag the latest chart from Danny’s hands. “Uh, gastroenteritis, no thanks, I’ll wait for the cool cases.”

“Even old marrieds get some occasionally,” Danny replies, grabbing the chart back from his friend and swiveling around in his chair to continue watching. It looks like Stiles is now attempting to strangle the attending surgeon with a nasal cannula, as Derek holds him off with one strong arm as he rifles through the rest of the cabinet drawers.

“Derek, if you keep messing those drawers up I swear to God -”

“You’ll what, Stiles? Talk me to death?”

“One of them really needs to be getting something, before they manage to blow up the entire ER department.” Jackson crunches into an apple, looking studiously bored with the tableau unfolding before them.

“The sexual tension is definitely gonna end up hurting someone if they don’t do something soon,” Danny agrees, nodding at Isaac as he pulls a wheelchair to a stop beside the rest of them. Isaac tilts his head and watches as Stiles flails his arms around, mouth going a mile a minute while Derek just stands there frowning, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“You really think all that tension is sexual?”

Allison, Jackson and Danny all turn their heads away from where Stiles is gesturing threateningly with a pair of scissors to stare at him incredulously. Jackson opens his mouth to say something that is bound to be both derisive and incredibly offensive, but before either Allison or Danny can try to stop him, they’re all interrupted by the bay doors slamming open.

“GSW to the chest, losing a lot of blood, here.”

Scott is balanced on the side of the fast moving gurney, the green of his uniform stained a muddy brown from his elbows to knees as he presses his gloved hands down onto the patient’s chest. Jackson drops his apple.

“Get him in to Trauma One,” Stiles yells from the back of the room, already grabbing a sterile pair of gloves and rushing over to hold open the door. “Danny, call up to the OR, let Lydia’s scrub team know we’ve got a Code Yellow 1 on his way up to her. Derek?”

Derek nods and follows quickly, grabbing a pair of gloves for himself and frowning at the reception desk. “Jackson, with me, Allison, go meet Dr Martin and fill her in on the details.”

Jackson throws his hands up as the tails of Derek’s white coat whip out of sight. “Why me? Why do you get to go into the OR all the damn time?” He glares at Allison, who shrugs nonchalantly.

“Because I find her dimples adorable.”

Jackson swears and bangs his hip painfully against the desk as he turns to find Lydia standing behind him, fiery red hair already neatly tucked beneath her lucky scrub cap. Her lips quirk in an evil smile as she glances over to the door to Trauma One. 

“What have we got, Allison?”

“Not sure, yet,” the resident replies, turning just in time to see Scott and his partner Boyd back out of the doorway with their ambulance gurney. “Stiles and Derek are stabilising him now.”

“Hmm.” Lydia walks up to the trauma window, but doesn’t go into the room. Allison and Isaac wander closer too as Jackson finally gets his ass in gear and moves into the room with Stiles and Derek.

“Push one of epi, get him on the monitors,” Derek says, as Stiles whirls around the room, already hooking the patient up, stethoscope dangling from his ears as he checks to make sure the tube is situated properly.

“Jackson, can you take over compressions?” Stiles hands the air compressor over to Jackson as he begins cutting away the man’s clothes, nodding his head as Derek lists off the tests needed.

“We’re gonna need CBC, Chem 7, PT and PTT. Type and cross, this guy’s gonna need to go straight to the OR, we don’t have time to screen.”

“On it.” Stiles finishes stripping the patient and pulls away the gauze and padding left by Scott and Boyd. “Oh wow, looks like the bullet nicked an artery.” Derek steps up beside Stiles and applies pressure to the wound as Stiles reaches behind him to grab a tray of more padding. “Lydia’s gonna love this one.”

“If we can stabilise him long enough to get him up to the OR.” Derek fingers the wound as Stiles swipes at the blood to keep his vision clear.

“Do we need to go in down here?”

“He won’t make it upstairs if we can’t stop the bleeding,” Derek replies, Stiles already behind him organising a tray.

Allison snorts and punches Isaac in the arm. “Yeah, that’s not sexual tension.”

Lydia raises one immaculate eyebrow. “Please, like it could be anything else. Look at how they work together. Even Aidan can’t predict what I need the way Stiles can for Derek, and he’s been my scrub nurse for years. Derek’s only been here, what, six months?”

“Seven,” Scott pipes up, slightly out of breath as he kisses Allison’s cheek and leans against her. “Man, I didn’t think we were gonna get him here in time.” He goes over to the reception desk to drop off the patient forms he’d filled in on the ride over.

“I don’t get it,” Isaac says, still frowning through the window as Stiles hands instruments up to Derek as they both bend over the man on the table and Jackson stares at the ceiling as he pushes air into the patient’s lungs. 

“Look at them, Isaac,” Lydia says, gesturing through the window at the doctor and nurse. “They’re not just working together in there, it’s like an artfully choreographed ballet performance. It’s obvious.”

Allison nods in agreement. “That’s why they’re always fighting when they’re not working on a patient; all the tension builds up in the trauma room and then it explodes out on the floor.”

“Exactly.” Lydia pats Allison’s arm and smiles. “Besides, I don’t know about Derek, but it’s definitely been a while since Stiles last got laid. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else since that guy he met at that conference back in spring. They’re definitely going to break at some point. It’s only a matter of time.” Derek suddenly looks up through the window and raises his thumb at Lydia, who nods back. “Allison, grab the notes from Stiles and meet me up in the OR in 5, okay?”

Derek and Stiles follow the gurney out of the room, carefully stripping off their gloves and gowns and throwing them in the disposal unit.

“You want to explain to me why you thought the best place for the speculums was in a pile in the corner of the trauma room, Stiles?”

“Oh, stuff it, Hale, you only noticed because I was too busy doing your job for you while you stared around the room.”

They walk across the floor to the double doors leading out into the hospital proper, still bickering.

“Okay, I’m in,” Isaac says, sitting down in his empty wheelchair and turning it round in a circle.

“In what?” Jackson frowns, still struggling with the ties of his - mostly pointless, considering he’d barely even participated - yellow gown.

“Lydia said, right? It’s only a matter of time?” Isaac arches up, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “I bet fifty bucks it happens by Halloween.” He slams some bills down on the reception desk.

Scott frowns at Isaac. “I don’t think we should be betting on when Stiles-”

“Why Halloween?” Allison asks, running her hand absently across Scott’s neck, whose eyes close and lips turn up in a sweet smile.

Isaac shrugs. “Because it’s Halloween, all those cute kids dressed up as werewolves and stuff. They’ll be melting into each other before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Jackson snorts, “because a bunch of screaming, puking kids is _so_ romantic.” He pulls out his own wallet. “Fifty says it happens by Thanksgiving. Those two losers’ll be fucking up against the wall just to stave off the loneliness of the holiday season.”

“Don’t be such an asshole, Jackson,” Scott growls. Jackson rolls his eyes and grabs a chart, walking off into the pit to find a biker that needs stitching up.

“Christmas,” Danny says, slapping his own money down onto the pile. “All those families, the decorations, eggnog and good cheer and all that? It’ll make them realise they belong together.”

Isaac grins. “You’re such a sap, Danny boy.”

“Says the guy who thinks _kids_ are gonna be the kicker.”

“The next full moon.” Allison leans over the desk and adds her notes in, wincing delicately at Scott’s betrayed whine. “Oh come on, Scott, it’s just a bit of fun. Besides, all those traumas and people acting strange on a full moon? That’s enough to get anyone in the mood.”

Scott’s face scrunches up. “Is that why you’re always jumping on me right after a really gross trauma comes in here?”

Allison smiles, showing her dimples. She grabs the patient chart from the desk and gives Scott a fleeting kiss on the cheek as she heads to the elevators.

Isaac watches her go, sidling up to Scott. “Dude, your girlfriend scares me.”

Scott snorts. “You should see her with a crossbow.”

“So what’s your bet, Scott?” Danny waves the pile of money at him, pen and paper next to him as he writes down the bids to keep track of them.

Scott scowls. “I’m not betting! Stiles is like my brother, I don’t even want to think about him and Derek at all!” He closes his eyes and shudders at whatever he can see behind his lids. Then he opens them and glares at both Isaac and Danny. “And you shouldn’t be doing it either, they’re our friends.”

“It’s probably better that Scott doesn’t join in anyway,” Isaac shrugs. “He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“I can too!”

The phone rings, and Danny answers. He puts the handle back down and smirks. “Lydia says fifty bucks they end up doing it on New Year’s Eve.”

Scott sighs in frustration.

________________________________________

**1**

Halloween is two weeks later, and the ER is absolute chaos. Kids are running everywhere, upending sterilised trays and pulling on important wires, pressing buttons on machines and fiddling with the bed controls. Isaac has made so many trips from the pit to the pediatrics unit on the third floor he’s starting to get dizzy. And worse yet, Stiles and Derek don’t seem to be succumbing to the cuteness of the kids the way Isaac had thought they would.

“Stiles, can’t you do something about that damned alarm going off every five minutes?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! It’s that little bastard in bay 5, he keeps pulling out the wires!”

“I can’t concentrate on these stitches when I keep thinking someone’s dying, Stiles!”

“Well unless you want me to knock a seven year old brat unconscious, I suggest you nut up and try to ignore it, Hale!”

Isaac narrowly misses being run over by a witch running screaming away from a boy dressed as a mummy, toilet paper unraveling from his arms and legs as he chases the little girl. He sighs and leans against the reception desk, sticking his middle finger up at Danny’s knowing smirk.

“Night’s not over yet, Danny.”

Danny raises his eyebrow over the stack of charts in front of him, all containing various degrees of stomach pains. “You’re gonna have to do something drastic if you want to win that money, man.”

Isaac grimaces and looks out over the crowded ER floor, wondering why on earth he thought Halloween was the best time to pick and what he could possibly do to up his chances of winning. His eyes light on a little girl, sitting on a gurney by herself, legs swinging even as tears gather in her eyes. He grins.

“I think I’ve found the very thing,” he says to Danny, and wanders over to the little girl.

________________________________________

“Hey, Stiles?” Isaac sidles up to where the head nurse is busy restocking the cardboard sick bowls, biting his lip nervously.

“What can I do for you, my man?” Stiles grabs a boy wearing a Captain America outfit and steers him forcefully back to the cubicle where his harassed mother is sitting with her daughter, who is wearing a Spiderman outfit and refusing to take off the mask even as she’s wailing that she needs to be sick.

“There’s a little girl over in Trauma Two, got a really nasty gash on her head. But the thing is, she’s all on her own. Her dad has had to go up to radiology with her sister.”

Stiles grabs Isaac’s upper arm in a vice like grip. “Is she screaming and crying?”

Isaac winces. _Damn it._ “Uh, no.”

Stiles sighs. “Fantastic. A bit of peace and quiet is just what I need.” He pats Isaac on his arm. “Thanks, dude. I’ll go sit with her until a doctor comes to stitch her up.”

________________________________________

“Derek? There’s a patient in Trauma Two who needs stitching.”

Derek frowns at Isaac, who tries to keep an innocent look on his face. “Don’t you have patients to move around?”

Isaac shrugs. “Just passing along the message. It’s a little girl, Stiles said it looked pretty bad.”

“Okay, tell him I’ll be there in a second.” Derek turns back to the patient in bay 9 and finishes writing his notes in the chart, and Isaac wanders back to lean against Danny’s desk.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Allison raises an eyebrow at him as she readjusts the drawstring on her scrub pants. 

Isaac smiles. “I don’t remember any rules saying we couldn’t push them in the right direction a little.”

Jackson slams another chart on top of the teetering pile in front of Danny, grinning when his friend punches him in the stomach. “And you really think shoving them in a room together with a whiny little kid is gonna get you that money?”

Isaac nods over at the window to the room in question. “Take a look for yourself.”

There’s no doubt about it, the kid is cute. She’s dressed as a werewolf, long dark hair pulled into pigtails behind a pair of large brown ears on a headband. She’s wearing brown leggings and a cream top, with black mittens and booties, complete with little wolf claws stuck on the ends. Her top is stained with slowly drying blood from the gash in her forehead, and her big blue eyes are filled with tears as she looks bravely up at Derek, who is leaning over her. Stiles is sitting on the examination table, the little girl pulled protectively into the sphere of his arms, stroking her cheek with a finger as he whispers into her ear as Derek does his work.

“Well fuck me,” Jackson breathes out, as Stiles says something that has both the little girl and Derek smiling at him, Stiles sliding his hand down the little girl’s cheek again and then reaching out to do the same to Derek.

Isaac grins, because he’s got this in the _bag._

And then suddenly the little girl sits bolt upright, her eyes going wide as she throws up all over Derek’s white coat. Derek’s eyes flash towards Stiles, who is desperately trying to comfort the little girl at the same time as not laugh at the state of Derek, and then the kid’s father is walking into the room and it’s over.

Derek trails out of the room after Stiles, who is still snickering into his hands and doesn’t see that Derek has stripped off his puke covered coat and is about to dump it right on Stiles’ head.

Stiles shrieks in outrage and hurls the offending article onto the floor. “You are such an asshole, Hale!”

“Right back at you, Stilinski,” Derek shouts over his shoulder as he storms off for the changing rooms. Stiles follows him, truly impressive curse words spilling from his lips as he gestures at Derek’s retreating back.

Isaac sighs, and Danny pats him on the back consolingly. “At least you tried, dude,” he says sympathetically, as Jackson walks off cackling loudly and Allison grins, dimples on full display.

He had been so close.

________________________________________

**2**

The next full moon occurs about a week later and, just as predicted, the entire ER is so full of crazies that Allison barely even has time to think about the bet she placed, let alone try to help it along. She’s stitched up several customers from Beacon Hills’ only biker bar, who apparently all thought that smashing bottles over each other’s heads was a great way to spend the evening. Lydia had swept through the floor a few hours earlier, handing out diagnoses to all the drug overdoses that always seemed to triple on a full moon. Scott had slammed his way through the bay doors so often it gave the impression he was stuck on a bungee cord, which actually wouldn’t surprise Allison. Isaac, Jackson, and even Danny could be seen running from one end of the floor to the other, flitting from radiology to histology to phlebotomy and back, restocking cabinets and trays, everyone generally drowning in patients and family members and charts. And through it all, Stiles and Derek have been yelling at each other across the melee since the moment they arrived on shift together.

“Stiles, why is there no patient chart for bay 6?”

“Because I have it in my hand, Derek.”

“How do you expect me to treat patients when I don’t know what’s wrong with them?”

“How do you expect me to update the charts without touching them, Derek?”

“You can touch them all you like, but why do you have to move them?”

“Maybe I just do it to piss you off, Hale!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Oh, bite me, Derek.”

“You’re sinking fast, Argent,” Jackson whispers in Allison’s ear as they both pause at the reception desk to watch Stiles and Derek fighting over the patient chart in their hands, the patient in question looking on bemusedly from her bed. “You’re gonna have to do something if you want a chance to beat me.”

Allison doesn’t have time to reply, because at that moment the bay doors slam open once more, Scott balanced precariously on the edge of his gurney.

“Incoming!” He yells as Boyd pushes the bed straight in the direction of Trauma One, and everyone freezes as they all take in the uniform the patient is wearing.

“Dad?” Stiles trips over his own feet as he tries to beat the gurney to Trauma One’s doors. Derek steadies him with an arm around his waist. “Scott tell me that’s not my dad.”

“It’s not me, Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski says as he pushes through the bay doors, following Scott’s gurney.

“One of your deputies, Sheriff?” Derek asks as he and Stiles rush into the trauma room after Scott and Boyd.

“Thankfully, no,” the sheriff replies, leaning against the doorjamb as he watches Stiles lean over where Scott has his hands pressed against the man on the table. “This guy thought he’d be able to get away with breaking and entering if he wore a uniform.” He chuckles slightly, rubbing his thumb across his lips in a failed attempt to disguise his amusement. “I guess he didn’t take the guard dog into account.”

“Christ, what kind of dog was it, a hellhound?” Stiles holds down pressure as Scott hops down. “On my count, one, two, lift.” Boyd and Scott transfer the patient onto the bed and step away as Stiles and Derek pull at the gauze pressed hard into the man’s stomach. 

“Jesus, is that his liver?”

“Danny!” Stiles yells through the open door at the receptionist, “Call Erica, let her know we’re gonna need her general surgery skills down here ASAP!”

“Allison, you want in on this?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Allison fairly skips into the room as Jackson snarls and storms off and the sheriff moves away to talk into his radio.

Stiles hands over the job of applying pressure to the deep lacerations to Allison and moves away from the table, leaning against the counter and taking a shuddering breath.

“I thought…”

“I know, Stiles.” Derek crowds up behind him, gloved hand squeezing the nurse’s shoulder and sliding down to his waist. “But he’s fine, your dad’s fine. Do you want to go take a break?”

Stiles breathes out and slowly shakes his head, and Allison smirks and raises her eyebrow at Isaac through the observation window as he and Danny watch Stiles lean back into the warmth of Derek’s chest for a steadying moment.

“No, I’m good. Thanks, Derek.”

“Anytime, Stiles.”

Allison holds her breath as Stiles straightens up and turns around, biting her lip to stop herself from squealing because Derek hasn’t moved back and they’re looking at each other and she’s going to _win_ –

And then the guy on the table suddenly rears up, knocking Allison back as he scrambles into a standing position, clearly intent on trying to escape even as strips of his skin fall away from his abdomen.

The sheriff runs into the room and helps Derek manhandle the guy back onto the bed, as Stiles snarls epithets under his breath as his sneakers slip in the blood covering the linoleum floor and Derek snaps about how handcuffing the prisoner to the bed should have been the first thing he’d done.

“The guy’s intestine is falling out of his body, Derek, I didn’t really think it was a priority!”

“There is a protocol for a reason, Stiles!”

Allison steps out of the way and waits until the patient is secured before she can carry on with her job. “Danny gives her a sympathetic look and Isaac pats her consolingly on her arm. “You got close, Allison, don’t feel too bad.”

Allison turns to face him, grin splitting her face from ear to ear, dimples out in full force. “Did you see that guy? His bowels fell out of his stomach! I could see his kidneys, Isaac!” She glances around the floor, her eyes glowing. “Where’s Scott?”

She runs off to find her boyfriend, and Isaac looks at Danny. “Well, at least she’s not too broken up about losing the bet.”

Danny raises an eyebrow. “She still scares you, doesn’t she.”

Isaac nods. “I’m terrified.”

________________________________________

**3**

As Thanksgiving Thursday dawns, Jackson leans against the reception desk and pleads with Danny.

“Come on, man, it’s not cheating, I’m just extending my guess.”

“It’s too late, Jackson, you should have said when the bets were placed.”

“Said what?” Allison comes to a stop next to them, pulling her long dark hair back into a ponytail.

“Jackson wants his guess to include tomorrow too.”

“Black Friday is just as much a part of Thanksgiving as today!”

Allison snorts. “Oh, I see what this is. You saw how close my guess was, and now you’re hoping that all the Black Friday traumas will get them tingling in all the right areas.”

Jackson smiles toothily. “What the hell are you doing with McCall, Argent? There is no possible way he can handle all your kinks.”

“You have absolutely no idea just how kinky Scott can be, Whittemore.”

“And how about we all keep it that way, huh?” Stiles bumps his hip into Allison’s as he rifles through the pile of charts in front of Danny. “Scott already overshares way too often, I don’t need it from you too.” He scowls down at the chart in his hands, then turns to the room at large. “Derek, for fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you to sign the goddamn release forms?”

He storms off across the floor, and Allison and Jackson watch as Derek snarls something back under his breath, making Stiles’ cheeks turn an ugly blotchy red.

“No extensions, Jackson,” Danny states from behind his pile of charts. “It happens today, or you lose.”

“Oh come on, Mahealani, I’ll make it worth your while?”

“Thanks for the offer, but you’re really not my type.”

“Bitch please, I’m everybody’s type.”

Danny looks the resident up and down, then agrees with a nod and a shrug. “Still not happening.”

“God damn it!”

Allison laughs and grabs another file from the pile. “You’d better get to work if you want to have a chance at winning today.” She nods in the direction of Stiles, who is currently occupied with trying to brain Derek with the back of the metal chart holder. Derek grabs it off of him and grabs the stethoscope dangling around the nurse’s neck and shoves him away with it.

Jackson sighs as Danny smirks and Allison skips away to deal with her next patient.

________________________________________

The floor is quiet by the time Jackson’s shift is almost over, so he goes into the break room to grab a cup of coffee before he has to drive to his parents’ house for dinner. Danny is slumped across one of the couches, foot dangling over the edge as he swears at the Angry Birds game he’s playing on his phone. Stiles and Derek are sitting at one of the tables, sniping about whether or not tomatoes are acceptable sandwich filler.

“They make the bread wet, Stiles, it’s gross.”

“Clearly, you have never had a BLT Stilinski Special.”

“ _Clearly,_ if the T stands for _tomato_ then I don’t want to.”

“Sandwich heathen.”

“Sandwich pusher.”

“So,” Jackson says loudly, partly because he has a plan to get them fucking in the on-call room in about five minutes’ time, and partly just to shut them both the hell up, “What’s everyone doing to celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“Ethan’s taking me out for dinner once he gets off shift,” Danny says, not looking up from his phone.

“Ooh, anywhere special?” Allison dances into the room and pours herself a coffee, eyes flicking between Jackson and Stiles and Derek.

“Of course it’ll be special,” Jackson says clapping Danny on the back and making him miss the pigs by a mile. “That’s what Thanksgiving is all about, spending time with the people you love, and who love you.” He nods his head like he has any clue what he’s talking about, and narrows his eyes at Allison as she tries to smother a snort.

“True that, brother,” Stiles pipes up, leaning back in his seat as he surreptitiously flicks tomato seeds across the table at Derek. Derek kicks him under the table.

“So, you got a hot date planned to celebrate, Stiles?”

Stiles grins at Jackson. “Sure do. But not until the weekend, I’m on shift until midnight tonight.”

“What about you, Derek?” Allison asks, and Jackson watches carefully as Derek looks steadily over the table at Stiles.

“I’m on shift tonight too. My sister’s busy working, so we’re just going to meet up over the weekend and celebrate then.”

“She’s probably just trying to avoid looking at your grumpy face during a holiday,” Stiles mumbles around a massive bite of his sandwich.

“At least we’re not so co-dependent we schedule our shifts to coincide with each other’s.”

“That’s not being co-dependent, that’s called being a good son!”

“It’s called cramping your dad’s style so that he and Mrs McCall have to look at your ugly mug instead of sucking face.”

“They like having me there!”

“Sure they do, Stiles, getting laid is probably the furthest thing from their minds.”

Stiles scrunches up his face in horror and throws a slice of tomato at Derek. “Oh my God, _shut up!”_

“Okay,” Allison says loudly, as Derek shakes his can of soda and opens it in Stiles’ face, drenching both their scrubs. “I think that’s my cue to go find more patients to deal with. And for you,” she whispers in Jackson’s ear, “to admit defeat gracefully.”

“Jackson wouldn’t know graceful if you kicked him in the face while doing a pirouette,” Danny says without looking up from his phone.

Jackson watches as both Derek and Stiles leave the room to go find some clean scrubs to change into and groans into his hands.

________________________________________

**4**

“If you’re thinking of hanging up mistletoe and forcing them to kiss beneath it, then it doesn’t count, you know.”

Danny looks around from where he’s busy hanging sterilised decorations from the ceiling above his desk to find Lydia sitting in his chair, gazing up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t think plastic mistletoe counts anyway,” he says, stepping down from the ladder and surveying his efforts. The green and white decoration hangs awkwardly, and he thinks one good blast of air will have it falling down onto someone’s head, but it will have to do.

“So, what’s your plan?”

“No plan, I’m just waiting for Christmas to work its natural holiday magic.”

“Plus you rigged the Secret Santa to make sure Stiles and Derek got each other,” Jackson says, pulling himself up to sit on the desk.

“And then you gave each of them advice on what would be the best thing to get,” Isaac adds as he walks past pushing a patient on her way up to radiology, holding up a hand for Danny to slap and nearly crashing the bed into the wall.

“Danny, you sneaky bastard,” Lydia smiles her predatory smile, nodding her head in acquiescence of Danny’s genius plan. “So your plan is, they open the presents at the gathering this afternoon and fall in love with each other between the fake mistletoe and the eggnog?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s a pretty decent plan.”

“Thanks.”

“Except it’s not going to work.”

They all turn as Scott walks up behind them, rifling through his medic bag as he tops up his glove supply.

“Why not?” Danny asks, affronted. “It’s a perfect plan.”

“Well yeah, for anyone who isn’t Stiles,” Scott says, an _are you kidding_ look written across his face. “It’s not Christmas yet, Stiles won’t open any presents until Christmas morning. It’s his number one holiday rule.”

“Oops,” Lydia says, a wide smile on her face as Danny curses under his breath.

“I’ll just have to make sure he makes an exception this year.”

Scott snorts. “Yeah. Good luck with that, man.”

________________________________________

“Secret Santa time!”

Danny grabs the desk size Christmas tree and the box of presents from under his desk and settles them across the top. It’s the perfect time for a quick celebration; the ER floor is mostly quiet, the day before Christmas Eve always a bit slow as everyone stays inside, exhausted from shopping and reserving energy for the cooking sprint that will be starting the following day. Erica and Lydia are both out of surgery and lounging around by the reception desk, and Scott and Boyd have just come in from their last run. Stiles and Derek are over by the storage cabinets, arguing over the organisation of the NG tube sizes.

Allison is the first to open her present, and she smiles giddily at the book of trauma studies, flipping through the pages and showing off the very graphic images. Isaac pales and leans against the desk.

“I’m never buying for her again. Seeing that book gave me nightmares.”

Danny pats his arm and hands Erica her present, who squeals at the package of extra thick black eyeliner and throws her arms around Boyd in thanks. “Stiles! Derek! Get over here and open your presents!”

Stiles looks up from where he’s grappling with Derek and the cabinet and waves his hand. “I’m good thanks. I’ll open my present at home on Christmas morning.”

Danny pouts. “But don’t you want whoever bought it to see the look on your face when you open it?”

“I’m sure whoever my Secret Santa is can suck it up and wait for me to find them and thank them.” He grabs a stack of packaged tubes from Derek’s hands. “Derek, those are the paediatric sizes, this is the adult drawer.”

“They should go together Stiles, in the same drawer. That way people can actually find what they’re looking for.”

“And they’ll be able to find what they’re looking for, Derek, if they look in the right places.”

“What about you, Derek?” Danny calls out desperately. His entire plan for winning hinges on them being in the same room as they open their presents for each other. He’d told them exactly what to get; a red hoodie for Stiles, because he wears them so much he actually wears them out, and a pair of riding gloves for Derek that match his motorcycle leathers. Danny had been listening into their conversations for weeks, trying to find the prefect present for each of them, so that they would be able to see that they’re perfect for each other once they’ve opened them.

“Actually, I need to get going, I’m meeting someone for dinner tonight.” Derek dumps the rest of the tubes in Stiles’ hands, smirking when they slip through his fingers to the floor.

Stiles swears at Derek’s retreating back and stuffs the packages haphazardly into the cabinet drawers. “And my shift ended a few minutes ago, so I’m gonna go make my Dad dinner.” He waves at the group all lounging around the reception desk. “Have fun you guys,” he smiles at them, and follows Derek down the hall to the changing rooms.  
Scott laughed and patted a forlorn Danny on the shoulder. “Told you man, he’s never going to break that rule.”

Danny slumps back in his chair and groans.

________________________________________

**5**

It’s New Year’s Eve, and the hospital staff party has been going on for most of the day. The staff room has been decorated to within an inch of its life, with all staff members pitching in and bringing food and drink to cram onto the table until they’re groaning under the weight of everything. People have been popping into the ER staff room on and off all day, whenever they get a moment’s break during their shifts, and then staying for longer once they’re done, gladly accepting a couple of glasses of Lydia’s famous eggnog.

Lydia herself clocked off two hours ago, and has been supervising the party from her lofty position perched on top of the microwave. Boyd had already come off shift and had picked up an exhausted Erica, who had spent most of her day trying to repair a man’s ruptured spleen and the rest of it complaining loudly that she got to miss out on all the party fun. Scott had clocked off at the same time, and was moping around the staff room, waiting for Allison to finish her shift so they could go home and see in the New Year together. Jackson hadn’t been on shift at all, but despite his insistence that he’d rather contract syphilis and watch his own dick fall off than spend any time with the rest of the losers at the hospital, had turned up a couple of hours ago and was now demolishing the plate of crab cakes as he teased Scott about being stood up.

But Lydia is concentrating on Stiles, who had just taken advantage of the sudden lull in activity in the pit and had sneaked into the staff room to see if he could snatch any of the pancake rolls before they were all eaten by Jackson. Derek is still on the floor, stitching up a patient who had tried to set off a load of fireworks early and had somehow managed to blow off half his hand. The entire world is populated by idiots, and it’s up to Lydia to make sure that at least two of them finally get their act together and stop being quite so stupid.

She has a plan, and it’s a good one. It involves a bucket load of heavily spiked eggnog and the key to the janitor’s closet. There is a reason why the others had all failed miserably while she reaps the benefits, and that is because she is an evil mastermind. She smirks to herself and slides off the counter.

“Here you go, Stiles, have a drink with me.” She hands him a plastic cup, filled to the brim with the creamy liqueur and puts her arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Lyds.” Stiles kisses her temple and leans into her, taking a big gulp and promptly choking on it. “Fuck me, Lydia,” he gasps, eyes watering from the strength of the alcohol. “I thought this was virgin stuff!”

Lydia shrugs. “It was, earlier. I’ve decided to liven the party up a little.”

“Well good for you guys,” Stiles says, trying to dodge Lydia’s arm and place the cup on the table away from him. “But I can’t start drinking for at least another hour, I don’t clock off until eight.”

“Oh come on, Stiles,” Lydia purrs into his ear, dangling the abandoned cup in front of him. “Live a little. Your shift’s nearly over and there’s enough of us here to make sure you don’t try to operate on anybody.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, that’s such a comfort.”

“Please Stiles? For me?” Lydia bats her lashes and gives him her most beatific smile, and Stiles groans, his head flopping backwards.

“Fine. But if I get fired for misconduct, my wages are coming out of your salary.”

Lydia winks at him. “There’s my boy. Now drink up!”

________________________________________

Half an hour later and Stiles has swallowed down 2 more full glasses of eggnog, which Lydia had made sure was at least 50% alcohol, just for him. She watches as Stiles gets steadily looser, his flailing limbs more expansive but slower, and he looks relaxed and happy. It’s time to put part two of her plan into action.

It’s not that Lydia needs an audience to her brilliance, it’s just that she’s incredibly good at timing things so perfectly that she gets one. Allison has finally come off shift and is enthusiastically greeting Scott in the corner of the staff room. Isaac has just turned up to wish everyone a Happy New Year, and Danny has finally managed to leave his desk and come in for some food and drink. She grabs Stiles around the wrist and yanks him along as she walks out of the room, knowing that everyone is watching and wondering what she’s up to.

“Come on, sweetie, I’ve got a job I need you to do.” She pulls him down the hall and stops outside the janitor’s closet.

“Lydiaaaaa,” Stiles moans dramatically. “You get me tipsy and then ask me to work? You’re a cruel person and I think I hate you.”

“Please, you love me and you know it. And it’s not work, I just need your help with a surprise for someone.”

“A surprise? For who?” Stiles perks up, eyes alight with mischief.

“The less you know the better,” Lydia winks at him and unlocks the door. “I just need you to wait in here for a minute, okay?”

“What? Why?” Stiles asks, but she pushes him inside and shuts the door without answering. She walks away to the sound of Stiles banging on the door and complaining about the darkness.

She finds Derek leaning over Danny’s desk, filling in a patient chart as he gets ready to leave for the day. “Derek, I could use your help with something, before you go?”

Derek puts the chart down and looks up. “Sure, what do you need?”

“Someone strong and tall to reach a high shelf for me.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “And you couldn’t ask Jackson to do it for you?”

“And have him think he’s actually useful?” Lydia scoffs and Derek grins at her.

“Fine. Show me where you need me.”

Lydia guides him down the hallway back to the janitor’s closet, hiding a smile as she realises there’s no more banging and yelling coming from the other side of the door. Stiles has obviously decided not to waste his breath, just as Lydia knew he would. She unlocks the door and gestures Derek in front of her, hand between his shoulder blades as she pushes him through the doorway and slams it shut again behind her.

“Lydia, what-“

“Sorry boys, but you’re not coming out of there until you’ve both got your act together and fucked each other senseless. The rest of us are getting bored having to wade through all your sexual tension every day.”

“Lydia!” Derek shouts through the door, at the same time as Stiles squeaks “oh my God!”

Lydia just smirks and walks back down to the staff room, her steps falling perfectly in time with the furious banging on the door. She pours herself a glass of reasonably spiked eggnog (unlike the stuff she ladled out to Stiles) and calmly sips at it, waiting for someone to ask her what she’s been up to. It’ll probably be Jackson.

“Okay, you’re up to something,” Jackson says loudly, pointing at her accusingly. “Tell us what you’ve done.”

“Oh nothing much,” Lydia says serenely, examining her nails. “Just ensured my winning this little bet.”

“What? How?” Isaac sits up on the couch, frowning.

“It’s amazing what a little bit of alcohol and an enclosed space can achieve.” She doesn’t actually expect them to jump each other, just talk things out and admit that they’re attracted to each other, but still Lydia smirks mysteriously, and Scott groans.

“Lydia, what have you done?”

“Follow me in ten minutes and we’ll all find out.” She plonks herself down in a chair and pulls out a magazine to flip through while she waits. She has a new pair of shoes to buy with her winnings.

________________________________________

**+1**

Almost 20 minutes later finds the entire group standing in the hallway in front of the janitor’s closet. They would have been here sooner, but Isaac and Jackson had got into an argument over the last crab cake, which had ended up with Isaac covered in seafood sauce and Jackson wearing pieces of lettuce in his hair like a very pissed off garnish. Scott is hovering behind Allison at the back of the group, clearly not happy with being a part of whatever’s about to go down, but unwilling to leave his girlfriend’s side. Isaac and Jackson are still glaring at each other over Danny, who has situated himself between them and is leaning against the wall opposite the closed door.

It’s quiet on the other side of the door now, but as Lydia moves closer to the door she thinks she can hear low murmuring and the sound of something falling to the floor. Either they’ve decided to make up and are talking, or their arguments have suddenly got a lot quieter than usual. She smirks, and silently fits the key into the lock.

“Oh my God!” Stiles shrieks, at the same time as Danny starts choking on his own saliva and Scott makes a pained sound and hides his face in Allison’s white coat. “Fucking hell,” Jackson whispers, and Isaac suddenly bursts into hysterical giggles. Both Allison and Lydia have the grace to blush furiously at the sight laid out before them.

Both Stiles and Derek are naked from the waist up, Stiles’ legs wrapped around Derek’s waist with his back braced against the metal shelving unit. Stiles has blooming hickeys raising up along the length of his neck and his hand is shoved down the back of Derek’s scrub pants, and Derek’s back looks like he’s been wrestling with a particularly vicious cat.

“Get. Out.” Derek growls, and doesn’t even wait for the door to close before diving back to suck a mark on Stiles’ collarbone, who lets out a groan so pornographic that Scott trips over his own feet as he lurches forward and slams the door shut again.

Lydia blinks once and then recovers her smirk, turning to face the rest of the group, who all look a bit shell shocked, except for Scott, who just looks really green. “Pay up, guys. I have shoes to go buy.”

The others all groan and walk down the hallway to Danny’s desk, where he’s been keeping the bet money until someone wins.

“It would be you,” Jackson moans, as he watches Danny hand over the money to Lydia.

She laughs. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually have their very first time in the hospital though,” Allison muses as she leans against the desk.

“Not exactly romantic,” Isaac agrees.

“Definitely passionate though,” Danny shrugs.

“Wait,” Scott says slowly, frowning. “What do you mean their first time?”

Jackson snorts out a laugh. “Come on McCall, I know you’re innocent and all, but even you must have noticed what they were up to in there.” He tries to bat the sheaf of notes out of Lydia’s hand, who sidesteps neatly without looking up. “At least now that they’ve finally done it, there’ll be no more sexual tension threatening to drown us.”

But Scott is still frowning. “So, you guys were betting on when their first time would happen?”

“What about this whole thing did you miss, Scott?” Isaac asks, the look on his face clearly wondering if Scott’s managed to give himself concussion while riding in the back of his ambulance again.

“I thought.” Scott stops, turns red, and carries on. “I thought you were betting on when they finally told you guys they were doing it!”

“WHAT??”

Danny bangs his head against the desk as he sits upright. Isaac manages to elbow Jackson in the sternum. Allison looks at Scott with surprised betrayal in her eyes and Lydia looks downright murderous.

“What are you talking about?” Lydia whispers furiously, her hand clenching on the money in her fist.

Scott swallows. “I- I thought you guys all knew! I thought you were all just being nice not mentioning it, because Stiles wasn’t ready to tell you all!” He looks down at the floor. “I thought it was obvious.”

“How long has this been going on?” Lydia asks icily.

Scott sighs. “Since before Derek even started working here. He’s the guy Stiles met at that conference back in the spring, it’s why Derek decided to move here.” He looked up curiously. “How could you guys not know? What do you think they do when they sneak off together after dealing with a patient?”

“Oh my God,” Danny whispers, and Isaac starts to laugh.

“Wait,” Allison says, holding up her hand in confusion. “If none of us knew, how did _you?”_ She points at Scott, who ducks his head.

“I may have walked in on them when I let myself into Stiles’ apartment without knocking, once.”

“And how come you didn’t tell us?”

“Stiles asked me not to!” Scott raises his head defiantly. “I told you I could keep a secret.”

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks,” comes Stiles’ voice from behind them, and they all turn to see Stiles and Derek, dressed again and ready to go home, holding hands. Stiles grins widely at them all. “I told you they didn’t know.” He pats Derek on the back as they walk towards the door.

“How about I pay you back in blowjobs?”

"I accept your counter offer, but no half-assing them as usual."

"I don't-"

Scott groans as the bay doors swish closed behind them.

“Lydia, give me back my money,” Jackson snarls, and Lydia backs away.

“No way, I won this fair and square!”

“You didn’t win anything! There was nothing to win!”

Isaac stands up straight as he watches Jackson chase Lydia down the hallway. “Who wants to bet we’ll be walking in on them all over the place now that we know?”

“No!” Scott shouts, as Danny shakes his head vehemently.

“No way. I’m not betting on anything with you guys again.”

They walk out into the hospital parking lot, still bickering about the bet. But it’s still kind of worth it when they spot Stiles and Derek leaning against Stiles' car together, light snow falling on their shoulders as they ring in the New Year with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> **NOTE** There is a scene towards the end involving alcohol that could be construed as very mildly dubcon or coercion, but it's not really. But if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, watch out for it.


End file.
